


Do I Know You?

by MistMarauder



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Cherub Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Mentions of Blood, Minor Violence, Murder, Not of Zira or Crow, Other, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Secrets, Somewhat Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Two Shot, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:55:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistMarauder/pseuds/MistMarauder
Summary: It's not that Crowley was afraid of Aziraphale... It's just that he very much was.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 325





	1. Part I

The first time Crowley got a sense that something wasn’t quite right, he had yet to change his name. As Crawly, he had coiled around the group of shivering children below deck, and the angel’s eyes had landed right on him. He had felt his own muscles clench, and the quiet sobbing of one of the children trailed off in a whimper as he raised himself into a position that would allow him to strike.

It would be regrettable. The angel had been a bit of an enigma since the Beginning and was definitely a step up from what he could remember of the angels in Heaven. But that didn’t make the angel his friend, and Crawly bared his fangs with that knowledge in mind.

It was a surprise then when the angel quirked a half smile, nodded in recognition, and turned to leave.

It hadn’t made sense at the time. It wouldn’t make sense for quite a while actually. The angel was bound to the will of God. And Her will deemed these children would perish alongside the others while Noah and his family survived. The angel had been willing before this very moment to allow those children to drown rather than intervene.

All because She had ordered it.

Yet, he was willing to allow Crawly to rescue them.

_Why?_

**

Asking questions was a surefire way to get into trouble. His refreshing swim in a lake of burning sulfur was proof enough of that, but curiosity had always been and would always remain his downfall.

So, he continued to seek out the angel known as Aziraphale.

Aziraphale who had given away his sword to the exiled humans and had survived it.

Aziraphale who had been among the Cherubim who stood watch on the wall yet now served as Principality.

The more Crowley thought about it, the less sense it made. Why had Aziraphale been demoted? Had it been because of the sword? It had to have been. He had seen no evidence of the other Cherubim having been demoted for that whole apple business, and they were all just as guilty of allowing him entry as Aziraphale was. It hadn’t occurred to any of them that he might come from underground instead of through one of the Gates. It had taken quite a few smitings of lesser demons before Crowley thought to suggest that plan, and of course since it was his suggestion, he was the one forced to test it and suffer the consequences should it fail.

Aziraphale himself had told Crowley that the Almighty hadn’t mentioned the sword again. It was as though the weapon being lost to the humans was a nonissue, but that statement alone had implied that She had to have mentioned it at one point. She had to have brought it up personally to Aziraphale, and she had likely brought it up right after the deed had been done. This meant the sword was a God given weapon and not a Heaven issued one, and it meant that she knew exactly what had been done with it.

So, she had demoted Aziraphale then? Since when did she hand out demotions? Is that why Aziraphale was willing to give away his sword but not rescue these children? One more strike and he’d be out? Crowley had honestly never heard of any other angel losing their position. You moved against Her, and She cast you out to burn. There was no middle ground.

Since when were angels moved to entirely different spheres as punishment instead of being thrown down into Hell?

God didn’t just let things go.

Crowley himself was living proof of that.

So, why let Aziraphale off? What made him so special?

**

A few centuries after the ark and a couple dozen “chance” meetings later, Crowley had mostly become resigned to the fact that he would never understand what exactly had happened to allow Aziraphale his own special form of punishment.

Aziraphale was a bit of a basket case anyway. Always fretting over the smallest thing and waxing poetic about the latest dish he’d enjoyed.

So, Crowley put it to the back of his mind and willed himself to forget. Perhaps even God couldn’t kick someone who reminded Her so strongly of a puppy who would very much enjoy being pet.

But that was before he saw the wings.

Aziraphale was a _Principality_.

Crowley _knew_ he was a Principality.

He introduced himself as a Principality, he handled himself as a Principality, and he even took orders graciously from the Archangels who were technically below him before executing them with the power and skill of a _Principality_.

Aziraphale was definitely a Principality.

Earth was his domain.

_So why in Satan’s name did he still have four wings?_

**

Crowley’s chest had been heaving and his vision wavering at the time, so he had almost been able to convince himself that his brain was playing tricks on him.

After all, he had seen Aziraphale’s wings before. Two great white fluffy things. Not these four monstrosities covered in twisting eyes.

One of four warped faces had focused on his, and Crowley tried to maintain eye contact as the Holy Light burned into him.

“I’m sorry, my boy. It’s too much. Your body can’t handle it.”

“What do you -” Crowley was cut off as he gagged on a mouthful of his own blood. Black and tar-like, it poured over his chin and chest. A few droplets even seemed to fly toward the hovering angel, but they incinerated before reaching him.

“Shhh. I’m sorry. You’ll have to get a new body Crowley. I won’t leave you here to suffer.”

Before Crowley could even attempt to ask what he meant, Aziraphale snapped his neck.

**

It would be another half-century before Crowley would run into Aziraphale again. Purely coincidental, he would assure you. He wasn’t avoiding the angel. Absolutely not.

Aziraphale had discorporated him. No big deal. He was dying anyway. The angel wanted to spare him the agony. Right up his alley. All good. No problems whatsoever.

Except, Crowley had been close to discorporating because of _another angel_ . A guardian angel actually. Apparently his current assignment had been given an extra bit of Heavenly protection, and Crowley was _so stupid_ because he hadn’t even reacted to the prickle of Divinity that lit his senses. He had assumed it was _Aziraphale_.

He had assumed he was _safe._

He wouldn’t make that mistake again. It had been a deadly one.

And he did mean deadly.

Aziraphale may have discorporated him, but Crowley had seen what happened beforehand. Aziraphale had appeared and come down on the guardian angel with a wrath that Crowley hadn’t seen since before his Fall.

 _“What have you done?”_ The voice had seemed to echo around them, and the guardian had stumbled backward from Aziraphale in fear. _“You are interfering!”_

He had destroyed her.

Crowley was a demon.

They weren’t even friends.

_Why had he destroyed her?_

**

The crucifixion took everything to a level Crowley wasn't entirely prepared for, and he almost couldn't believe his own mouth as he antagonized the angel.

But it was _brutal_. The man had done nothing but good, and the Almighty was forcing him to die in absolute agony.

Blood and piss and tears soaked the ground below him, and Crowley turned his eyes away to glance at Aziraphale's resigned expression.

What kind of Mother tortured her children and called it love?

**

Twenty-four hours later he drank himself into a stupor convinced Aziraphale would come down and smite him for being a disrespectful bastard.

Thankfully, that didn't happen.

But he did wake up with a killer headache in a pool of his own vomit.

He didn't even know demons could get hungover!

**

Rome had been an interesting experience.

_“Still a demon then?”_

What kind of question was that?

But chatting had led to oysters which had led to Crowley realizing he _actually enjoyed the angel’s company_.

Which was a shame really because years and years of questioning had led Crowley to a single conclusion.

Aziraphale _wasn’t_ a Principality, and what was more concerning? The Archangels were apparently unaware of this fact. He had seen Gabriel and Aziraphale interact once before, and unless the Archangel was courting his own demise, he certainly believed he had the right to treat Aziraphale as a bit of a dense nuisance.

_And Aziraphale let him._

_Aziraphale could destroy him, and yet he stood back and let Gabriel treat him with poorly veiled contempt_.

So, Aziraphale _hadn’t_ been demoted. He hadn’t been punished at all.

He had given away God’s special fiery sword and was now undercover as a Principality for some reason.

And he had four wings.

He had four wings, and Crowley was absolutely terrified of him.

Which made enjoying his company a tad bit inconvenient.

Why had he agreed to oysters again?

**

He later had to ask himself why he hadn’t reported the truth about Aziraphale, and while he would have preferred telling himself a nice lie such as _‘I had no clue if I saw what I thought I saw or was actually hallucinating,’_ he was stuck acknowledging the fact that this wasn’t the case at all. Crowley knew what he had seen.

And of course, it had nothing to do with a drunken walk through Rome or the sharing of oysters or the fact that Aziraphale was a right funny bastard when it came down to it.

It had everything to do with the fact that he had questions, and bless it all, someone was going to answer them!

Too bad he was too afraid to ask.

So, it figured that when they next crossed paths, Aziraphale asked him a question instead.

He had pinned Crowley in place with his gaze, and the demon in turn had an internal panic attack trying to come up with an answer. His brain made it difficult since the only phrase it had seemed able to come up with was _"Run away!"_

This was neither an appropriate response or a viable means of escaping Aziraphale.

_"Crowley, did you hear me?"_

_"What was that, angel?"_

_“I asked if you remember anything from the night you were discorporated."_

_“Hm? Sorry, angel. Not a thing.”_

**

It didn't take long for Crowley to accept this as the new normal.

Aziraphale was not a Principality. He apparently could also get away with things others could only dream of such as destroying his fellow angels and giving away flaming swords and sparing children the Almighty would like to drown.

How Aziraphale was still a bright ball of Holy energy and hadn't joined the ranks of Hell was a mystery to Crowley.

A mystery he couldn't solve because he was playing a game of _'I-Think-You-Don't-Know-That-I-Know-What-You-Are'_ with Aziraphale that had him replaying all of their conversations in his head at least a dozen times and fretting.

He wasn't supposed to fret. That was Aziraphale's job!

But of course Aziraphale only does it at the most inopportune times.

Making them muck about in armor in the cold because of Head Office.

Ha!

Crowley wanted so badly to just blurt out what he knew and tell the angel he was absolutely full of it, but then he remembered the guardian angel that was vaporized before his eyes and wisely kept his mouth shut.

**

_Shakespeare? Really, Angel?_

It was easier these days to forget there was anything odd about Aziraphale.

Crowley had finally annoyed Aziraphale into an Arrangement of sorts, and it had become harder and harder to reconcile the overwhelming being that had sent him hurtling back to Hell and murdered another angel in front of him with the Aziraphale who cried over the Library of Alexandria and plied Crowley with wine on a regular basis.

Honestly, Crowley was beginning to think maybe he _had_ hallucinated it.

What kind of multi-eyed powerful top tier angel would stand around delighting over grapes and yelling out encouragement to random young human actors in an empty theater anyway?

**

Then the idiot went and got himself locked up in the Bastille, and Crowley was absolutely convinced that he had been reading far too much into everything up until now and he was probably an even bigger idiot than Aziraphale was.

He had a split second of relief at this new reality before Aziraphale sent him spiraling right back down by sentencing his jailer to death in his place with a minor miracle that was apparently too much to perform just five minutes ago to save his own hide.

But revenge is apparently all well and good!

Barely counts as a miracle and Gabriel sends me rude notes, indeed!

Aziraphale stared remorselessly as they stopped just beyond the crowd and watched the other man go screaming to his death.

It was cold. And unlike the Aziraphale he had become accustomed to.

And he stared back wrong footed as Aziraphale turned and looked at him with a meaningful gaze that seemed to say _'Don't forget what I am, Crowley.'_

Then it was over and Aziraphale smiled brightly before gently steering Crowley away.

"This way, dear boy. The crêpes in Paris are to die for!"

**

Crowley had battled himself on whether or not to ask Aziraphale for Holy Water. It was a risk, and he knew there was a large chance the angel would deny him. He also knew there was a large chance Aziraphale would smite him for even asking, but that would solve all of his problems well enough. He wouldn’t be able to worry about much if he ceased to exist.

At the end of the day though, he knew he should consider himself lucky that Aziraphale had left him with only harsh words.

So, why did he feel so wretched?

**

The angel had been staring at him since getting into the Bentley, and Crowley was using all of his willpower not to squirm like a child who had been caught out of bed.

Crowley had saved the books? So what! That didn’t make him any less demonic. He was still as evil as ever! Aziraphale had no business looking at him as though Crowley had hung the moon.

Though actually, if they wanted to get technical, he kind of had.

Shaking thoughts of Before from his mind, he tried to distract the angel.

He needed to do something to get those eyes _off_ of him.

Crowley’s pulse was racing, and he could feel his face heat. This couldn’t be a natural reaction.

Could you get drunk on another being’s Divinity?

**

Following Aziraphale’s less than stellar reaction to his request, Crowley had been careful to avoid discussing his heist plans around the angel in an effort to keep the peace. So even though he should be pleased that Aziraphale didn’t seem angry so much as concerned, he couldn’t help that a small part of him was disappointed to find Aziraphale in his car with the very item he sought. He had been looking forward to the excitement of it all. It would have been very James Bond.

But that was a very small part of him.

The rest of him was poleaxed. Aziraphale had quite literally stormed away after making his opinion on the matter extraordinarily clear when Crowley had asked him before.

Crowley honestly didn’t understand what was happening.

_“You go too fast for me, Crowley.”_

_What does that even mean?_

Crowley knew he was fond of the angel, and only in his drunkest moments would he admit that his feelings went a bit beyond fondness.

He always felt like a bit of a fool for getting attached to Aziraphale. Every time he would start to drown, a hissing voice in the back of his mind would remind the rest of his love-struck corporation that the angel had been lying to him _since the day they met._

It was easy in the day to day bustle of demonic activity and human ruckus to forget some of the more alarming and suspicious events he had witnessed regarding Aziraphale, but Crowley had never been good at accepting his own ignorance.

He stared at the flask in his hand for a moment longer and wondered if this was a sign that Aziraphale might finally be open to answering his questions. This was of course assuming that Crowley could muster enough courage to voice them out loud.

Crowley wasn’t a fool though.

It had been one thing when the only risk would have been his life.

Now, a poor reaction from Aziraphale would cause something far worse.

It would break his heart.


	2. Part II

In the end, he couldn’t keep them in. He’d never been able to, and his Fall was proof enough of that.

He _needed_ to know.

So, if he started taking Aziraphale out a bit more often and hanging around the bookshop when he didn’t have work that needed to be done, it was only to soften the other up a bit before interrogating him.

It took a spectacularly large amount of wine for Crowley to even bring it up. Well, a spectacularly large amount of wine on _his_ part. Aziraphale was still quite astonishingly sober. It was a plan poorly executed.

_“So, angel. What I mean ish- What I mean- I mean that you can’t be a Princh-Prish-Princib-Earth guardian thing.”_

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my dear.”_

_“You do! You have four wingsh!”_

_“Ah… So, you do remember that night after all.”_

_“Uhhh… No.”_

_Aziraphale snorted in response._

Panicking, Crowley had quickly sobered up and made his excuses to leave the bookshop. It would be weeks before he gathered enough courage to approach Aziraphale once more.

**

And when he finally did, he did it as a snake.

He slithered in behind a patron and hid among the bookshelves as he watched the other being dissuade the human from purchasing a book with terrifying ease.

Why did the angel even own a bookshop? He’d be better off turning this place into a museum, but apparently that took the fun out of it.

“Crowley, I know you’re over there.” The demon hissed lowly as the door closed behind the patron and Aziraphale turned in his direction. “Really, dear boy. There’s no need to hide.”

Crowley wanted to laugh hysterically in response but being a snake prevented any such thing from occurring. He was starting to regret choosing this form to be honest. It made him quite a bit smaller than the other, and Aziraphale could easily crush him under one of his nicely polished shoes.

He let out a hiss as he felt the angel’s hands wrap gently around him and lift him up to eye-level.

“Really, my dear. A snake? I know you’re probably feeling a bit embarrassed after our last conversation, but is this really necessary? We’ve seen each other far drunker than that.”

Was he really doing this?

Was he really going to act like Crowley hadn’t called him out on a major secret of his before fleeing off into the night like a coward.

He let his tongue flicker out while winding himself around the other’s wrist as he tried to get a handle on the situation.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“Really now, my dear. It’s not as bad as all that. I knew you were being dishonest with me when you told me you didn’t remember. You’re quite a bad liar you know.” Crowley reeled back in shock as Aziraphale lifted his other hand to run a finger gently along the scales between his eyes. “I let it slide because you were so clearly afraid, but Crowley…” Aziraphale moved the snake’s face closer to his own. “Do not lie to me again.”

**

After that terrifying meeting, Crowley took the initiative to shove all of his questions back down into the darkest depths of his mind where they belonged.

**

It made things difficult when the time came for Armageddon.

Aziraphale _knew_ that Crowley knew what he was. Yet he continued to front as being incapable of going against Heaven for whatever reason.

Why was he putting all of this on Crowley’s shoulders?

He didn’t understand!

**

“I’m so sorry, my dear. It was Her plan, you see.” The angel was wringing his hands in front of him and looking at the demon worriedly.

It had been a few weeks since the failed End of the World had come and gone.

Crowley had tried to ignore it at first.

His questions and his bitter rage at Aziraphale’s recent behavior were starting to choke him, but things were finally somewhat safe for the two. He didn’t want to ruin that.

So, he terrorized his plants, and he visited Aziraphale’s bookshop. He took them to the Ritz, and he fed the ducks in St. James Park. He tried and he tried and he tried again to ignore the words that pressed against the inside of his mouth every time they came together.

It was beyond frustrating.

This was silly.

They’d switched corporations.

He _knew_ Aziraphale trusted him - at least on some level.

And he trusted Aziraphale as well.

So, why was he holding on to this primal fear of his friend.

Aziraphale wouldn’t hurt him… Right?

Sure, the angel had been displeased with him before, but Aziraphale had only ever harmed him to spare him further agony. He winced as thoughts of his discorporation at the other’s hand came to mind.

“Her… _plan…_ ”

“Well yes. You were important to it, so I had to keep you safe.”

“You killed another angel because I was a key component in Her plan…”

“Well… yes. She shouldn’t have interfered.”

“She didn’t know she was interfering, Aziraphale. She just thought she was doing her job!” Aziraphale’s expression hardened.

“The lower sphere angels that reported to me were told to leave you be. I warned them that I was the only one who would have dealings with you. As Earth’s Principality, they should have respected that warning for what it was. If she had, she’d still be here. As it is, her death is regrettable, but it was a necessary sacrifice.”

Crowley stared at him without comprehension. The other could have just punished her. He could have wiped her memory and sent her back to work. There were a lot of routes he could have taken. Instead, he’s justifying her destruction.

Just how well did he know his angel, really?

**

That conversation left a hollow space in Crowley’s chest. He had wanted to press for more information.

Ask what exactly Aziraphale knew about Her plans that he’d be willing to go to such lengths. Ask what role Crowley played and why She hadn’t spoken to him Herself - even when he’d yelled at and pleaded with Her.

Nothing made sense anymore.

**

It didn’t take long for Aziraphale to start seeking him out instead of the other way around. Crowley had taken to locking himself in his flat after that disastrous conversation, and Aziraphale seemed concerned about the demon’s well-being and quite unwilling to let things be. And Crowley - being Crowley - couldn’t let go of the instinct to reassure the other that he was okay.

The truth was that he loved Aziraphale, and he was having to grapple with the fact that the other was capable of such merciless violence.

He’d been conveniently ignoring aspects of Aziraphale’s nature for millennia, and he couldn’t do that anymore.

**

“Why didn’t you kill me?”

“What do you mean?”

“After the “Great-bloody-Plan” went down like it was actually supposed to, why didn’t you kill me then?”

“Crowley…”

“I’m still part of Her plan, aren’t I?”

“I…”

“Answer me, angel.”

“Yes, you are.”

Crowley let out an ugly laugh and showed Aziraphale the door.

**

“It’s not what you think, dear boy. I promise it’s not.”

“How would you know what I think, angel?”

“Well, you’ve made that rather obvious.”

“Oh, have I?”

Aziraphale sighed.

**

“I do care about you, Crowley.”

“Oh really? I thought we weren’t even friends. That’s what you told me at the bandstand, isn’t it?”

“Crowley, _seriously.”_

“I’m being perfectly serious, angel.”

**

On and on it went. Aziraphale came to Crowley and fumblingly tried to explain himself while Crowley began to harden.

He didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t anymore. He knew his own feelings, but everything beyond himself was a mystery.

Aziraphale had some strange in with the Almighty Herself and knew far more than any angel Crowley’d come across before or after his Fall, and Crowley - the lowly serpent cursed in the Garden of Eden - was somehow a key element in all of them.

Aziraphale was also capable of committing egregious acts of violence without an ounce of remorse.

Crowley had known the angel was capable of murder. Even without the one he’d witnessed, the other had been a Cherub. Demotion or no demotion, he had been a Cherub _during the War_. He would have fought. He would have killed. He would have thrown his fellow angels from unimaginable heights and watched their wings burn as they Fell.

He’d have withstood the screams and killed again and again or he’d have been thrown down himself.

He could remember the angel’s line when they had been discussing Warlock…

_“I’ve never killed anything!”_

Crowley had taken that to mean he had never _wanted to._

Now he was beginning to understand that it was an outright lie.

**

“Crowley, you can’t stay locked up in this flat forever. Won’t you please come out?” Crowley stared at him.

“And go where? Back to your bookshop? How is that any less of a prison than this flat?” Aziraphale pursed his lips and leaned back a bit - seemingly in thought.

“I have an idea…”

**

Crowley wanted to hate it. Truly, he did.

The idea of he and the angel moving in together was positively ludicrous, but despite all of his conflicting emotions when it came to Aziraphale at present, he missed him when he wasn’t around. He had his plants, his wine, the Bentley, and not much else really except for the angel himself.

Crowley looked around the garden critically as Aziraphale watched with a nervous gaze.

It would do.

**

He should have been annoyed at how simple it was to become used to this new norm, but he couldn’t help falling into the routine with ease.

He would garden.

Aziraphale would read.

They’d go into town on occasion.

Aziraphale kept up with Book Girl and would sometimes have her over for tea.

She’d update them on how the Antichrist was doing.

Crowley would yell at his plants some more.

Aziraphale would make cocoa.

Crowley’d curl up as a snake and sleep on the couch in front of the fire, and he’d wake up to a soft hand stroking his scales.

**

He’d gotten so used to it that he was entirely unprepared when Aziraphale kissed him.

**

“Crowley, dear. Please come out.” Crowley could hear the angel huff in exasperation as he lowered himself next to the bookshelf the demon had hidden beneath. “I wasn’t trying to startle you, my dear. You were just there, and you looked so perfect. Your hair was sticking to your face from the sweat, and - Well… I shouldn’t have done it. At the very least, I should have asked first. I’m dreadfully sorry, Crowley. Won’t you please come out?”

Crowley did.

He came out, transformed back into his more human-like shape, licked his lips, and responded.

“Angel…”

“Yes?”

“Do it again?”

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up.

**

It was a new normal.

Yes, Aziraphale was vicious.

Yes, Aziraphale was powerful.

He knew more than any celestial being Crowley was aware of, and he still preferred to spend his time reading and learning even more while drinking a mug of hot chocolate.

He’d killed before. Crowley knew that he’d kill again if he needed to.

Crowley still had questions.

Crowley would _always_ have questions.

He was still afraid to ask them some days, but Aziraphale tended to answer when he could bring himself to do so.

He’d smile at him and tell him what he could. He’d also tell him when an answer was off-limits.

Aziraphale was always gentle with Crowley.

It was strange... But as they kissed in front of the fire, Crowley understood that there was nowhere else that he’d rather be.

He wondered what that said about him, really...

Then he realized that he didn’t actually want to know.


End file.
